Nemesis
by Bloodsong 13T
Summary: Malcolm and Walter's conversation just before Moira discovers them talking together in "Darkness on the Edge of Town."


**Nemesis**

_CONTENT:_

Rating: General

Flavor: Drama

Language: no

Violence: no

Nudity: none

Sex: none

Other: no

Spoilers: Season One, second half

_Author's Note:_

In "Darkness on the Edge of Town," Moira discovers Malcolm visiting Walter at Queen Mansion. One day, I wondered what the two of them had been talking about before she got there. My Brain overheard me, and so it told me this is how it went.

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><p><strong>Nemesis<strong>

===#===

Walter settled into the armchair, grateful for the simple comfort of a cushion and armrests, fresh air, and golden sunlight beaming through the windows. Home.

"You know," Malcolm said, "talking about it will help. It could jog loose any details or clues." He sat across from Walter, on the settee, concern clear in his gaze.

"I've told the police at least five times. I really want to stop talking about it, and stop thinking about it." He'd like to get a good night's sleep, free from the anxiety, the nightmares. He wanted his life back.

"I'm sorry; it must all be very stressful for you."

"No, it's all right. I know you're concerned."

"Every one is. We all... We feared the worst. When there was no call, no ransom demand..." Malcolm looked down at his hands. "We were sure you'd been killed," he said softly. Then a smile played across his lips. He looked up, his eyes lighter. "Not Moira, though. She never stopped believing you were alive. She was so sure. She must love you very much to have such faith in her convictions. I guess we should have listened to her."

Walter pursed his lips in thought, nodding. They should have listened to her; she was right. Where did she get her unshakeable faith?

Malcolm went on. "I'm so glad you're back, safe and sound."

"You should regret it," Walter told him.

"Oh?" Puzzlement erased that easy smile. "Why is that?"

"Because now you'll never knock me off the top of the racquetball league." He tried not to be too amused at Malcolm's discomfiture.

"Ah, that. Club Champion for three years running?" He shook his head. "I couldn't have done that to you. Your photo would have stayed on that wall, in tribute. No one would have thought to take it down. Least of all, me." He became more serious. "You've been a good friend, Walter. Since Robert..." Talk of his old friend brought a shadow of pain to Malcolm's face. "You're a good man."

"Thank you," he said quietly. He twisted his fingers together in the awkward silence following that sentiment.

"Well," Malcolm said, "I don't want to put any strain on you. Perhaps I should have come at a later date. Or called."

"No, not at all," Walter insisted. "It truly is very kind of you to come all the way out here."

Moira's voice came drifting in from the foyer. "Walter, who are you speaking to?"

Malcolm rose from his seat and turned as she entered. "Moira. How are you?"

She seemed to hesitate a moment, a look coming over her face, but then Walter blinked and it was gone. "Well; thank you," she answerd somewhat brusquely.

As Walter moved closer, he noticed something about the way she stood, how she seemed slightly out of breath, her hair just a fraction out of place. "Actually, you do look a little bit out of sorts," he said with concern.

She brushed it off with a smile. "Oh, no, no; I'm fine." Whatever it was, it faded away. Or perhaps Walter had simply been mistaken.

"Malcolm stopped by to check up on his nemesis," he explained with a touch of humor. Malcolm chuckled softly, but Moira didn't seem to get the joke. "On the racquetball court," he clarified. Again, she recovered, but it did take a moment.

"I didn't get a chance to talk to Walter at the hospital," Malcolm told her. "But like everyone, I'm glad he's back where he belongs. With his family."

Moira nodded. "Yes."

Then Malcolm turned to him. "I'll let you get some rest." They shook hands, and Walter thanked him again. Malcolm nodded with a smile and turned to say his goodbyes to Moira, but she interrupted him.

"Let me walk you out."

Walter watched them go, side by side, another thoughtful frown creasing his face. Something was a bit off with Moira. And now he began to wonder... everyone else had been so sure he'd been killed - even the police. They'd been looking for a body. Even the insurance companies, Thea had told him. They were so sure, they had wanted to pay out on his life policies. But Moira had refused. It was almost as if...

===_X_===

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><p><em>End Notes:<em>

I tried to make this subtle, but I'm worried I might have made it a bit too subtle...? You saw what Malcolm did right there, right? :X


End file.
